


Turnabout

by Tritogeneia



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama, Gen, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-03-26
Updated: 2003-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-07 01:34:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10349448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tritogeneia/pseuds/Tritogeneia
Summary: SPOILERS : "Thor’s Hammer", "In the Line of Duty", "Thor’s Chariot", "Into the Fire", "Seth", "Fair Game"SUMMARY : He is Sobek; avenger god who rights insults committed against him and the Goa’uld with the blood of those who have wronged them. A dangerous, unmerciful killer who wounds with both words and weapons with equal efficiency. And, as his newest host, he has taken Dr. Daniel Jackson.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Yuma, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [Stargatefan.com](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Stargatefan.com). To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [StargateFan Archive Collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/StargateFan_Archive_Collection).

Turnabout

##  Turnabout

##### Written by Melissa Beattie   
Comments? Write to us at [Tritogeneia@aol.com](mailto:Tritogeneia@aol.com)

  * SPOILERS : "Thor's Hammer", "In the Line of Duty", "Thor's Chariot", "Into the Fire", "Seth", "Fair Game" 
  * SUMMARY : He is Sobek; avenger god who rights insults committed against him and the Goa'uld with the blood of those who have wronged them. A dangerous, unmerciful killer who wounds with both words and weapons with equal efficiency. And, as his newest host, he has taken Dr. Daniel Jackson. 
  * R [D] [V] [A] 



* * *

It was chaos.

Pure and simple, that's what the place was. Civilians running every which way, Goa'uld and Jaffa chasing them, and in their midst, SG-1, trying in vain to mount a decent defence so that the locals could get away.

Just another day at work....

If he'd had time, Jack O'Neill would've sighed. However, given that there was a Jaffa at about three feet and closing, doing his level best to get a clear shot, the colonel figured he had better things to do.

And, as if that weren't enough...somewhere in this mess...they'd lost Daniel.

It was typical, he thought, managing to get a clear enough shot to take out the Jaffa without killing any civvies in the process. If there was some way, any way at all, to get into trouble, Daniel Jackson would find it. 

Or it would find him. 

Or...whatever. 

Allowing himself that sigh, he made a brief visual scan of the area, hoping to catch sight of their errant archaeologist in the mess. *C'mon, Daniel,* he thought impatiently, eyes roving the area where the younger man had been before all Hell'd broken loose. *Time to go home. The General's got dinner waiting...* 

Carter was on the left fringe of the melee, herding people upland toward the Gate. Teal'c was on the right, battling his way toward the main enemy formation.

No Daniel.

*Damn...*

The kid had better not be captured. Because, so help him, if Daniel got himself held hostage again, he'd--

But he never finished the thought.

Because the sound of an archaeologist crying out interrupted.

*Oh God,* was all the colonel had time to think before his legs began to move, carrying him quickly in the direction of the sound. Thankfully, there were no fleeing peasants between them to worry about.

Of course, the way _was_ full of Jaffa...but he knew how to deal with that.

After all, now they'd gotten him mad.

Firing continuously, he managed to take them out in just a short eternity, not allowing himself to think about anything beyond the enemy in front of him. 

Daniel was fine. 

He might have a couple of bruises, but he was fine. There was no reason to think otherwise.

Until he caught a glimpse of the man.

Writhing in silent agony on the ground.

And the controlled anger burning inside him broke containment. 

Without conscious thought, he battled his way through the rest of them, allowing the heat of the rage to fuel him. After too long, he managed to get to Daniel's side.

To find him shuddering, eyes squeezed shut, facing the sky.

Cold horror damped fury as the colonel fell to his knees beside him. "Daniel," he said, trying to figure out if the kid was even conscious. "_Daniel_."

"No..."

Feeling his gut knot itself tighter, the colonel reached out to try and steady the other. "Daniel, it's me."

"No!" the archaeologist cried out tightly, jerking away from his touch. "Stay back!"

What the hell? "Daniel," he persisted, following the other as he tried to crawl away. "What's wr--"

And he cut himself off as Daniel cried out again, cutting through the older man like a knife.

Then, with a final spasm, he fell back against the ground, and was still.

*No...* 

Feeling a horrible tightness in his throat, the colonel reached out to the younger man's neck, hoping desperately to find a pulse beneath his fingers. 

Which was when he saw the blood.

Only a few drops on the neck...a few more on the collar...a lot more on the nape....

And Jack O'Neill felt his world come crashing down. 

*

Which was right when he screamed for Teal'c.

Not a call.

Not a shout.

But an actual, full-on, out-and-out scream.

And something in his voice, remembered from a distant, former time, told Samantha Carter exactly what'd happened.

Her legs carrying her unthinkingly forward, it wasn't long before sight and sense confirmed the memory.

A single look at Daniel, now lying on the ground, held there by both Teal'c and the colonel, was all it took.

As the all-too familiar tingle spread through her, she met Daniel's eyes as she approached. 

They glowed.

*

Sobek.

It'd been the name the Goa'uld had called itself, as it shouted and cursed and demanded to be released in a voice that never used those tones. 

The name it'd used as it struggled in his grasp and fought with the strength of a maniac in a body completely unsuited to brute force. 

The name it insisted upon as it wore an expression of hatred and rage on a face where it was totally alien.

Then, mercifully, it'd called itself nothing as it fell victim to a tranquilizer.

And now, as he stared vacantly at the door just two hours later, O'Neill wished he could be so lucky as to be unconscious for all this.

The debriefing had gone as well as could be expected-- given that the major point of the meeting was fairly obvious; find out about this Sobek, and figure out what the hell to do from there.

The results had _not_ been encouraging.

Sobek. 

Crocodile god. 

Protector god. 

Vengeful against wrong-doers god.

Ally of Ra, son of Seth, occasionally hard-ass underworld god.

Inside Daniel.

The colonel sighed. Why did they always have to run into war gods and tyrant gods and gods with no sense of humour? How about a nice peace goddess or god of fruit or something nice and nonthreatening?

Or, better still, how about every Goa'uld became a pacifist?

Of course, pigs flying fighter planes were more likely, but hey, it was a big Universe.

He sighed again, wondering exactly how the hell he was supposed to deal with this.

Especially given where he was now.

Outside the detention area.

Staring at the door.

About to go face it.

Even though he knew he wasn't gonna get anything out of it but grief. 

Sobek would have access to all of Daniel's knowledge. So, it'd know that, when Carter had been taken about a year and a half ago, O'Neill had been put in charge of the interrogation. So, it'd expect that the same scenario would play out.

What it hopefully _wouldn't_ expect was that it was all a delaying tactic, to give Carter and Teal'c time to head to Cimmeria and arrange for a Goa'uld-ectomy.

It'd been the best solution they could come up with, mainly because it got that thing out of Daniel the fastest. Twenty-four hours more at most.

Which was twenty-four hours too long. 

In _anyone's_ book.

Carter, at least, had lucked out and gotten a Tok'ra. While that was hardly sunshine and roses, Jolinar at least hadn't been a brutal, sadistic, twisted little nightmare.

Like the little "friend" Hathor had implanted O'Neill with earlier in the year.

Even now, he had to forcibly repress a shudder anytime he thought about those few hours he'd had the thing inside him, fighting to merge and control him...and using incredible amounts of pain to do so.

Then, when it was obvious that mere physical agony wouldn't do, the little sonuvabitch decided on a new approach.

It'd shown him, in intimate detail, exactly what it intended to do to Carter and Daniel.

The thing took after it's mother.

The nightmare images had stayed long enough to keep him up watching the Late, Late, _Late_ Show for weeks.

No. Death couldn't come fast enough for the little bastards.

Which, unfortunately, brought him right back to where he was.

Staring at the closed door of the detention area.

He sighed, and, steeling himself, stepped inside.

And found he was being watched.

The Goa'uld was sitting on the bunk, looking entirely too normal and relaxed for comfort. 

Except for one thing.

Daniel's clear blue eyes were eerily calm as they tracked the colonel's movement like targeting lasers.

Which, while they congealed the knot that the colonel's gut had frozen into, served as a much-needed reminder that he was _not_ dealing with his friend.

And, judging from the glacial cast, he _was_ dealing with someone very , very dangerous.

And, if he was any judge of these things...very likely insane, too.

Boy, they just had _all_ the luck, didn't they? 

Swallowing imperceptibly-- he hoped-- the colonel grabbed a chair and pulled it over, seating himself just in front of the bars. 

For a long moment, he just stared.

Sobek stared back.

In another time and place, it might've been an unfair fight.

Not now.

Unfortunately, they had to get started before Sobek realised that everything was a stall.

But before he could say a word, the unthinkable happened.

The corners of the Goa'uld's mouth rose.

And, in confused surprise, O'Neill blinked.

It was a mistake.

"You lose, Jack," Daniel's voice said silkily, unaltered from normal beyond a disconcerting smoothness. 

Inwardly, the colonel cursed. 

Outwardly, he kept his irritation down. "It's `Colonel'," he corrected, thankful his voice remained even.

Daniel-- _Sobek_-- actually replied with a chuckle, though no amusement reached his eyes. "No, Jack," he insisted mildly, shaking his head slightly. "I know you. I know your name." 

Okay...

The MO was different from Jolinar's, that was for sure. But it was damned weird for any Goa'uld. It was even a one-eighty from his earlier behaviour.

What the hell was going on here?

Croc-boy was still smiling. "Care to let me in on the joke?" the colonel asked benignly.

It was a moment longer before Sobek lost his merriment. "You'll know soon enough, Jack," he replied.

What was this guy, a comedian? A laughing Goa'uld in the body of his friend was not a _good_ sign. "Yeah, whatever," he said, hearing the annoyance coming through in his voice. "You and I need to have a little talk."

"Do we?" the other asked, shifting position on the bunk ever-so-slightly. "I didn't think you were capable of communicating on my level."

Ah...now _there_ was the Goa'uld ego they all knew and hated....

"Or," he continued, moving away slightly. "Daniel didn't, anyway."

Oh, here we go....

"But," Sobek went on, heading back to the bunk. "I've found much of his knowledge unreliable-- take some of these myths he's got floating around in his head. I mean, I was there for most of them, and so many have gotten distorted and recombined and blown utterly out of proportion..."

Off-balance. That was this guy's game-- he was trying to keep the colonel off-balance...and it was working.

"Still," the Goa'uld was saying, "it's been nice to reminisce." 

*I'll bet...*

"I've missed so many of my old friends that you've killed, Jack."

And this time, it was personal. 

What a switch. 

Things were just looking better and better, weren't they?

The Goa'uld moved forward, and a look of innocent concern formed on his face. "Have you come to kill me, too, Jack?"

The voice was so much like Daniel's that the question physically hurt.

"No," he said shortly, clamping down on his emotions with an iron fist. "I'm going to ask some questions," he went on to explain, hearing the edge that nevertheless remained. "You're going to answer them. Okay?"

Innocence melted into that maddening smile. "Archei oun," he intoned, in a melodramatic style that reminded the colonel uncomfortably of his own. "And so," he translated from the...Greek? "It begins." He shook his head. "So, General Hammond's making you do it again, huh?"

A dozen emotions, with irritation topping the list, began to bubble up inside him, making him feel about ready to put his fist through a wall. 

Intellectually, he knew what all this was. The parasite had access to Daniel's mind. Therefore, he knew just how to get to the colonel. 

So...that was the last thing he could allow to happen.

Easier said than done...

He tried to take one of those deep, cleansing breaths that everyone was always raving about, but found that his lungs weren't in the mood. So, settling for an almost-sigh, he composed himself as best he could. "So, tell me Sobek..." he began, forcing his voice to stay even. "What were you doing back there?"

The smile never wavered. "So, tell me, Jack," the other mocked. "What if I don't feel like telling you?"

To say that the answer was unexpected would be to lie through his teeth.

To say that it was unwelcome...would be to understate severely.

Back when he'd first had to interrogate Jolinar, Teal'c had given him the advice that assaulting a Goa'uld's ego was the best way to go.

Somehow, he doubted that was gonna get him _anywhere_ with this one.

However, given that most Goa'uld were cowards when it came to their own necks...there was another option worth exploring.

No matter how badly it twisted the colonel up inside.

Slowly, O'Neill stood, and allowed the contained emotions to blaze in his eyes as he faced the other. "You'll feel like telling me," he stated, his voice thick with implied threat.

Innocent hurt returned with abandon to Sobek's face. "You mean," he said, taking a few steps closer, eyes wide with surprise laced with fear. "You'd actually _hurt_ me, Jack?"

It suddenly occurred to the colonel that this might _not_ have been the best way to go....

"You'd come in here," Sobek went on, in that horrible parody of Daniel's voice. "And you'd actually beat me up, Jack? One of your own team?"

*No. Not if there were any other way....

*Shut up! This is what he _wants_ you to think...*

"How could you do that?" the Goa'uld demanded, sounding absolutely horrified. "How could you be so cruel as to shed my blood like that? I thought we were friends, Jack!"

*This is not Daniel talking,* he reminded himself as the words cut into him. *This is an enemy trying to take advantage!* "_Daniel Jackson_ is my friend," he corrected, feeling the words connecting him back to the steadier ground of reality. "You're just a thing in his head."

For a brief moment, as both the mock-innocence and calm amusement paled behind the dark rage that flared in the Goa'uld's eyes, the colonel knew he'd scored a hit.

He inched closer, all but leaning against the bars, intending to press the advantage for all it was worth. "I know he's fighting you," he stated, keeping his voice low and dangerous. "I know he's still in there." 

*I know I'll get you out of him if it's the last thing I do.*

Rage continued to darken the other's eyes, turning them the color or storm-filled skies.

And then they glowed.

Suppressing the habitual repulsion caused by the sight, he allowed himself a tiny moment of victory; when a Goa'uld's eyes glowed, it meant that it was reasserting its control over the host, which in turn meant that _the host was fighting_....

*C'mon, Daniel,* he urged silently, somewhere between a hope and a prayer. *Keep it up....*

All too quickly, the light died.

But it was a start.

He could cling to that.

He'd probably have to.

Soon enough, a hint of a smile played at the corners of Sobek's lips. "So he is," the invader confirmed. "In fact...I'm quite enjoying him."

A tiny chill started at the base of O'Neill's spine, and tried to work its way up. "Oh, really," he replied, ignoring the sensation.

The Goa'uld nodded. "Yes. I'm finding his cries of pain most...stimulating."

The chill expanded throughout his body, turning every nerve to ice.

Only to melt and burn with searing, phantom pain from the memory of Hathor's Goa'uld.

The thought of Daniel going through that was...exactly the kind of thing Sobek wanted to cause....

"Tell me, Jack," the Goa'uld said silkily. "Do you like that sort of thing?" 

He took another step, eyes gleaming with a strange light that Daniel Jackson could never have duplicated. "Do you enjoy hearing the screams of your victims?"

*Don't think about it....*

But it was hard not to....

"Do you ever stand over one of them, and just...watch? Savouring the moment?"

*Stop it...*

He was trying to hypnotise him...think of something else...think of...something... anything....

"Do you like the feel of blood on your hands, Jack?"

*Stop it!*

Squeezing his eyes shut against it all, he tried in vain to regain control.

It was a mistake.

"Let's see," he heard the Goa'uld say.

Just before he felt his wrist seized in an iron grip.

His eyes opened just in time to watch as his trapped fingers were raked across the exposed flesh of Daniel's neck.

"How's that?" the bastard asked, eyes shining brightly with perverse pleasure as, the colonel, taken completely aback, pulled his hand away, stumbling backward in the process.

It was a long moment before he could regain anything close to composure.

And that was only by refusing to look down at the warm wetness he could feel coating his skin.

"You realise," the colonel said, after what was obviously far too long, "that you're not exactly making me feel like letting you go."

The other just smiled that maddening smile. "Who says I want to leave?" he asked. "I've rather enjoyed our little chat."

That made one of them...

"And like I said...I'm truly fond of _dear_ Daniel."

Though his insides shuddered, the colonel refused to let him score another blow with the same tactic. If Sobek wanted to hurt him, the little bastard was gonna have to _work_ at it. "You know," he began, hearing the snap of annoyance reentering his tone. "I'm getting pretty tired of these games."

The other's smile widened. "Of course," he replied, in a patronizing tone that made O'Neill's temper flare yet again. "You've never liked wordplay, have you?"

"Actions speak louder." 

The words slipped out of his lips without thought.

And, as soon as they'd emerged, he wanted them back.

A cold light seemed to fill Sobek's eyes at the statement. "Ah, but there are very few actions you can take, Jack," he reminded. "And they all have consequences, don't they?"

Most did.

But not all.

"You'd think that, wouldn't you."

In fact, there was one action he could take right then.

And, all things considered, it was probably the best thing to do.

And so, turning on his heel, he began to head to the door.

He'd gotten about two paces before Sobek spoke again.

"Running away, Jack?"

Somehow...he'd _known_ the Goa'uld would say that.

Thankfully, he also knew the answer.

Forcing a display of confidence onto his face, he turned back. 

The expression clearly threw Sobek off-balance. In fact...there might even have been a smidgen of genuine worry in his expression.

Feeling a small half-smile curl his lips at the Goa'uld's reaction, he took a step closer. "You wish," he replied smugly.

He had the satisfaction of seeing the other's calmly arrogant mask slip again just before he stepped out the door and into the corridor.

And then he caught sight of his hand.

He'd barely made it to the locker room before his carefully formed exterior cracked like and egg and shattered on the floor.

*

*"Ah, what fools these mortals be...."*

Sobek shook his head in amusement at the quote, dredged up from long-unplumbed depths of his new host's mind, the pathetic creature that he was.

Oh, certainly, the human fought his master's control. 

Was fighting even now, in fact. 

He could feel the other, shifting beneath him, struggling against the sheer power of the Goa'uld that kept him pinned deep, deep down...able to do nothing but watch and feel the pain...

Yes, this one fought.

They all did, initially. 

But, soon enough, they all fell into line.

This one, barely more than a child...he would fall.

The Human mind could only suffer so much before it broke.

And once that occurred...the rest was easy.

It was amazing to him, sometimes, that these Humans had somehow managed to survive even _this_ long, being as weak as they were. Their flesh could be torn by even their own pitiful remnant talons, allowing their lifeblood to leak out.

Although...that, in and of itself, was not _always_ a bad thing....

A small smile curved his lips at the memory of O'Neill's face when the blood began to flow...could he now, perhaps, be sitting somewhere, shaken and alone, unable to even stand for his weakness?

It was an appealing thought.

If not a likely one.

Yet.

But, perhaps now, he would not return.

And if he did....

A low laugh threatened to escape his throat as he felt the stimulation brought on by the potential challenge-- a feeling that was only increased by the new, stronger thrashing of his host.

It seemed the Human was quite attached to his colleague.

For reasons that his master was only just beginning to discover.

And that was...unusual.

In general, when a host was first taken, he, like any Goa'uld, would begin to blend. Deeper and deeper he would go, breaching defenses, reaching in further and further...revealing everything.

A host could keep no secrets from its master.

And then, once the host's "soul", as they called it, was laid bare...

It was taken.

Subsumed.

Dominated by the superior knowledge and will of the Goa'uld.

Quite a pleasurable process, really.

At least, it always had been.

But this one....

This one was _crowded_.

Every time the Goa'uld reached in further, striving to learn all the secrets and thus capture the soul...a myriad unrelated events and stories and feelings came with it. While the information would likely all prove useful...filtering through so much was time-consuming.

Time that he may not have.

For if O'Neill _did_ return....

Sighing, he returned to the bunk, absently rubbing at the new-formed rents in his neck. The host had known that the colonel would be assigned to this... interrogation, if one could call it that.

The host had also seemed to believe that O'Neill was someone to fear.

Ha.

Having conducted more interrogations in his lifetime than his host had seen days, he knew the best ways to gain information. The other had done nothing even close to them.

Not that he _wanted_ his new host disfigured, of course. It was actually quite nice.

But, if worse came to worse, he could always get a new one.

That was very likely why Ra had chosen this species as host; they mated often and produced enough acceptable offspring to host a dozen times the current Goa'uld population.

Supply was never a problem.

Except, perhaps, here.

Here, they seemed bound and determined to defy the natural order of things. They adamantly insisted that they were _not_ lesser beings.

Fools.

He would show them how powerful he was.

And how little they were.

Before he was finished with this new host, he would destroy them all.

Starting with O'Neill.

Perhaps then...this child would accept the truth.

That all he was now belonged to Sobek. 

*

O'Neill had stayed in the locker room for what might've been hours before Hammond found him.

The general had said that everything was set...there was just one more thing he had to do.

One more thing.

One tiny thing that was probably the hardest thing anyone could've asked him to do.

The one thing that he was going to do right now.

It lay in his hands, behind his back...long and smooth and cold as the death it spat out.

And it was only the beginning.

Taking a deep breath to steel himself, he reentered the detention area.

"Back so soon, Jack?"

Control...control....

"I've decided," the colonel forced himself to say, "that I don't feel like talking to you anymore."

And he brought it out from behind his back.

The other just smiled. "You're going to shoot me, Jack?"

*It is only a zat gun.*

He took a step forward. 

*I cannot kill him with a zat gun.*

He raised the weapon and aimed it straight at the Goa'uld.

*Please don't let me kill him with this zat gun....*

And, in a single, convulsive motion, Jack O'Neill did one of the hardest things he'd ever been asked to do.

*I'm sorry....*

He squeezed the trigger.

*

Pain.

Hazy...diffuse...sharp electric agonising all-encompassing stop it stop it _stop it_ Jack? Jack!

"I'm here. It's okay, I'm here."

Was he speaking? 

Was it gone? 

Had it finally--?

No. 

No, it was still there...all around, just...stunned...

...it'd be back....

He could feel it...feel it pushing down on him even now...trying to trap him beneath it...thousands of tiny talons clawing their way into him, flowing down to the deepest parts...invading everything that he was...learn everything...

...couldn't let it...

...couldn't stop it...

...had to die...

"I know, Daniel. I know. You've just gotta hold on."

Hold on? 

Onto what? 

There was nothing to...

...wait...

...a dim shape before him...groping half-blindly, he tried to reach out to it... anchor himself...

...oh, God...it was coming back...

...rising...

"Just a little longer, Daniel." 

A pinprick in his arm...his fingers coming into contact with something warm and yielding...

"You can do it."

Pressure...moving...falling away...

...below...

Had to anchor...Jack was there...couldn't let go...couldn't...

..._can't_...

...an inhuman roar filling his ears...

No....

*Yes!*

And the pain came again....

*

The instant he'd felt Daniel's hand convulse against the side of his face, O'Neill knew that there was a problem.

Which was right before Sobek raked his fingernails down the colonel's cheek.

Drawing back in surprise, the colonel barely managed to keep his balance as the Universe again saw fit to throw Croc-boy at him.

Not for long, though.

He hoped...

"Miss me, Jack?" the Goa'uld asked malevolently, pulling himself up to a crouched position.

Exposing the small puncture wound on his arm.

"No," the colonel said, feeling a tiny candle of victory light up his dark day. 

"Actually, I'd say I got you."

Sobek's eyes narrowed in confusion, and O'Neill fought down a surge of malicious glee.

It only took a moment for the Goa'uld to figure out where the colonel was looking.

It was maybe a heartbeat later that he realised what O'Neill had done.

Then he twisted Daniel's face in an alien expression of unadulterated rage.

And O'Neill felt his amusement drown in a tidal wave of cold fear.

"How _dare_ you?!" Sobek cried, his voice for once resonating as it echoed off the walls. 

"How dare _you_?" he heard himself respond. 

*How dare you take one of _my_ friends....*

As the colonel watched, the other's body began to sag; obviously, the sedative was beginning to hit full force.

The sonuvabitch couldn't go out fast enough.

"You will pay for this, Jack."

He fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Yeah, whatever."

*I've all ready been paying....*

Though it was with a clear effort, Sobek managed to raise his head, and look O'Neill dead on with those clear blue eyes that weren't quite sane. 

It was unnerving as all hell.

"You will," the Goa'uld promised. "As will he.". And it was blatantly obvious who he meant.

And, as the other finally slid bonelessly to the floor, the colonel tried to console himself with the fact that very, very soon, this would all be over.

But, as he stepped into the cell and manacled Sobek's hands behind him, O'Neill had the definite feeling that things were going to get worse way before they got better.

He was right.

*

Cimmeria's sky had been steadily darkening for a few hours now, and a thick, heavy wind had begun to rise.

And as she stood by the Asgard obelisk, staring out at the horizon, Sam Carter waited for the inevitable.

A storm was coming.

Others would've taken it for a good sign. A reminder that Thor, god of the storm, was present. That his great Hammer would destroy anyone who meant his people harm.

Others might say that.

Others didn't have friends who were possessed by a Goa'uld.

Others had never had a Goa'uld-- or, in her case, a Tok'ra-- inside them.

While she didn't regret what'd happened-- well, not _much_, anyway-- and thought she'd probably have liked Jolinar if they'd met under other circumstances... being taken as a host had _not_ been pleasant.

If hosting a Tok'ra had been unpleasant....

She sighed, and watched the clouds.

Granted, she'd gained much by the blending. Memories, friendships, advantages...

*...nightmares, confusion, pain....*

And that'd been what'd happened when one of the _good_ guys had taken her.

Daniel having to host a full on Goa'uld....

She didn't even want to consider it.

So, instead, she gazed at the sky.

The clouds were closer now, with the first flashes of lightning visible. Soon, she'd begin to hear the thunder.

Years ago, Kendra had thought the sound of clashing electrical fields in the clouds was Thor speaking to her.

Unfortunately, science said otherwise.

And science was to be believed.

Of course, if anyone had claimed that wormhole physics would be a science just ten years ago....

Well.

Look at all that particular branch had brought them.

"Major Carter."

Breaking out of her reverie at Teal'c's quiet call, she immediately became aware of the mild trembling beneath her feet. 

Glancing over at the Gate, she saw that, as she'd known she would, the chevrons were beginning to glow.

*Here we go...* she thought, fingers tightening on the trigger as she readied her weapon-- the tranquilizer gun that she prayed she wouldn't have to use. She shouldn't-- supposedly, Sobek would've been tranked _and_ restrained by the time he was brought to the Gate.

Supposedly.

Glancing over at Teal'c, she saw the same emotions flash through his eyes as he hefted his own weapon.

Nice to know she wasn't alone.

All too soon, the Gate opened.

Much too quickly, two figures came through.

Far too slowly, the obelisk began to work.

Too slowly...because Sobek began to regain consciousness.

It took only a heartbeat for realization to cross his features.

A split instant later, he began to struggle in O'Neill's grasp.

As she took aim, a knot forming inside her, she saw the obelisk's beam move forward and imprison him in a beam of light.

His features contorting as she watched, Sobek cried out in pain.

In Daniel's voice.

It felt like a needle driving itself home in her heart.

And, catching sight of O'Neill's anguished eyes just before he and the Goa'uld were transported, she knew she wasn't alone in that either.

For their part, the skies rolled with thunder.

A scientist would say it was electricity.

The Cimmerians would say that it was Thor.

She wished she could believe.

*

The Labyrinthe.

Solid rock tunnels, dim lighting, eerie sounds of unseen running water...not really the kind of place one would like to spend the day.

But as O'Neill shook off the disorientation of transport, he reflected that at the moment, it was the most beautiful thing in the world.

Of course...Sobek might not agree....

The Goa'uld lay on the ground, looking around like he'd been spun around a hi-G simulator once too often. His eyes were unfocused, his skin pale, and his expression...

...so much like Daniel's "lost puppy" look....

Feeling yet another yank on the old heartstrings, the colonel once again forced his mind to cold reality. Innocent appearance aside, the Goa'uld was still in control.

But not for much longer.

*Still not soon enough.*

"Get up," he ordered Sobek, grabbing the other's arm and hauling him to unsteady feet.

*Drugs making you a little woozy still? Good!*

After a couple seconds, however, the other shook it off. "What is this place?" he asked, voice as human as could be.

Right down to the note of fear in it.

"This?" the colonel asked "innocently", gesturing around. "This is a cave."

Sobek didn't even have time to glare before a bright light suddenly appeared before their eyes.

Which coalesced into a man.

A very large man, who wore the armour of a Norse warrior.

And in this man's hand was a hammer.

"No..." Sobek whispered, trying to take a step back which the colonel wouldn't allow.

Yes.

"And this," O'Neill continued, holding the Goa'uld still and watching with perverse enjoyment as his eyes grew wider and wider, "is Thor."

Take _that_, Croc-boy.

*Hang on, Daniel...just a little longer....*

"I am Thor," the hologram began, "Supreme Commander of the Asgard Fleet..."

O'Neill barely listened as the "Norseman" went on, watching with increasing fascination as the blood continued to drain from Sobek's face. Sure, the Goa'ulds could talk big, but they were as large a bunch of cowards as he'd ever seen.

And when the Asgard said that the only option for any Goa'uld was death...

...something very surprising happened.

Sobek turned around in his grasp.

And with eyes as cold as Antarctic ice, he smiled.

"So," he said, sounding utterly calm. "You _do_ intend to kill me."

And the jig was up.

And this damned Goa'uld was so damned _relaxed_....

He was _so_ looking forward to getting that smug look off the little bastard's face...

"Oh, you betcha," O'Neill replied, feeling something between a smile and snarl pull at his lips as his emotions began cracking the walls of their containment.

*You bet your life I'm gonna kill you, you sonuvabitch...*

Sobek merely nodded. "I see."

And then he struck.

He'd hooked his leg around O'Neill's before the colonel could so much as blink.

Which is when reflexes took over.

If asked, he knew he'd have no clue what exactly he'd done-- his training said to complete the object of the exercise, in this case being simply to keep the prisoner a prisoner.

But he knew what he almost did.

The arm pressing the Goa'uld down held a standard military-issue knife.

And the blade rested against the other's neck.

Right near the tears his own hands had been forced to make.

Staring down at the gleaming blade, he took several deep breaths, and tried in vain not to think about almosts.

He failed.

He shouldn't have brought the thing. 

He hadn't even wanted to in the first place. 

It'd taken a hell of a lot of second-guessing just to get it down here.

But...he'd needed something.

Zats wouldn't work down here.

And a gun was...too hard to control.

A knife, at least...Daniel could get over a non-critical wound. God knows he'd done it before.

So, all things considered...this _had_ seemed like the best choice.

And, at the same time, the worst.

He didn't know if he could use it.

Oh, sure-- he'd used knives in his work before, dozens of times.

But not like this.

This was different.

This was...Daniel.

Yet there the thing was.

In his hand.

Resting gently against the nape of Daniel's neck.

Waiting.

Just in case he needed to use it.

The sheer thought of which was enough to twist his gut into ice-cold knots.

Good thing Sobek couldn't see it, huh?

Hesitation was _not_ a good thing when dealing with a psychopath.

Which reminded him.

He should probably say something....

"Problem, Jack?"

Too late.

Damn....

"Or," the Goa'uld continued, "are you just being melodramatic?"

Melodramatic? 

_Him_? 

_Perish_ the thought....

"No," he finally replied, carefully keeping his voice even. "No problem."

*Except for the fact that there's a certain parasite who is starting to _really_ piss me off...*

And the little sonuvabitch seemed to know it.

"Are you sure, Jack?" he pressed, in that same smooth, quiet tone. "Are you sure you have no problems with taking that knife of yours and drawing it across your _dear_ friend's neck?"

Ice water again coursed through him at the Goa'uld's words. 

As Sobek had no doubt intended....

"All that blood..." Beneath him, he saw the other shake his head slowly. "So much of it. All on you, Jack."

Too much...all ready too much on him...

*Stop it!* 

Sobek was trying to play with his mind. Just as he'd been doing the whole time. By this point, it shouldn't be affecting him.

Yeah. Right. Like he could just turn it all off.

He didn't even want to consider what might've happened if he _was_ able to do that....

"Would you like that, Jack?"

*No...*

Stop it...

"I take it," he heard himself say, "that you're not a big believer in the noble, _quiet_ death?"

Sobek laughed softly. "Only if it's given by someone willing to get his hands dirty."

Oh, _please_... "What makes you think I'm not?" If this little bastard thought he wasn't capable of doing some damned distasteful things...

...of course, they'd never involved anything like this before....

The other shrugged slightly. "Daniel seems to think you're a dangerous man."

Smart kid...

"But," the Goa'uld went on, "his definitions are different from mine."

_There's_ a shock....

Sobek turned his head slightly, and the colonel could see him smile. "You have a problem, Jack," he stated. "I know you too well to think otherwise."

It'd figure. It'd just figure that the little jerk would jump into one of the few people who knew him well enough to predict how he'd react... 

"You haven't the the will to destroy us both."

True.

But...

"Who says I need to?" 

The Hammer wouldn't kill Daniel. He knew that. After all, it hadn't killed Kendra, way back when. It wouldn't kill Daniel now. The Asgard weren't built that way.

Right?

He saw Sobek's smile grow. "Are you sure, Jack?" the Goa'uld asked. "Are you absolutely certain he can survive the Hammer?"

*No...* 

"Yes."

*Thor, buddy, so help me...if your de-Goa'ulding thing hurts him...*

The other's smile got even wider. "So," he said, eyes glittering coldly. "You won't kill him yourself, but you would leave your friend-- barely more than a child-- to the Hammer." He shook his head. "You surprise me, Jack."

Oh, he was gonna be surprised a lot more before the colonel was done with him...

"I thought you'd be stronger than that."

Uh-huh.

"Yeah, well," the colonel said tartly, allowing his eyes to roll. "Your definitions are different from mine."

That whole sane versus insane thing did that.

Sobek just chuckled for the umpteenth time. "Perhaps," he replied. "Or, perhaps, there's another solution."

Don't bet on it.

Nothing in the Universe could make him allow this sonuvabitch to live.

_Nothing_.

"Perhaps..." the other continued, calm as could be. "Perhaps you'd prefer that _I_ do it."

And between one heartbeat and the next, O'Neill's insides turned to ice.

And worse...Sobek knew it.

"You know I can, Jack," he went on silkily. "I can kill him a dozen times, then bring him back..."

His veins carried liquid nitrogen...his skin was packed with dry ice...Antarctica hadn't been this cold...

...watching Daniel...over and over...oh, God...

"And," the bastard continued, "perhaps, one time, I'd leave him down long enough to destroy some of this precious brain tissue your species is so fond of."

The cold was everything, now...turning his whole body to glacial ice at the thought...but with something deep inside beginning to...

"Once that happens," the Goa'uld was saying, "he won't be able to resist me at all."

...spark.

Which was kindled to a warm flame by the knowledge that Daniel was still hanging in there.

And apparently causing ol' Croc-boy some trouble.

Way to go, Daniel.

"Fighting you, huh?"

For the briefest of seconds, Sobek's eyes hardened.

And that warm flame burned hot and true, taking all the ice and melting it away.

Still, the Goa'uld wasn't about to admit anything. "Nothing I can't handle."

Yeah, right. And he was the queen of England....

"After all," the other went on, "you lesser beings are all so susceptible to pain..."

Flame turned to fire turned to searing phantom agony as he remembered Hathor's Goa'uld.

Then it blazed to an inferno as he thought about it happening to Daniel.

"Maybe so," he admitted, hearing the fire temper his voice to diamond hardness. "But let me remind you of something."

Bending down low enough that he was literally breathing down the other's neck, he waited a few moments, studiously avoiding the sight of the as-yet unhealed cuts.

Then he spoke, barely above a whisper, in a soft, steel-filled voice that couldn't have been more dangerous if he'd shouted for all the worlds to hear.

"Daniel Jackson is my friend," he reminded the Goa'uld. "Just jumping into him was enough to get you killed."

And then, he bent down still further, practically whispering in the other's ear.

"Everything else...just makes me mad." 

And he knew the fire in his eyes could outshine any Goa'uld.

Sobek turned, and for a moment, he could see something that may have been grudging respect in the other's eyes. "You can only kill me once, Jack."

"Maybe," he admitted, never breaking eye contact with the little bastard. "But I _will_ see you in Hell. And then I swear to God I'll make you wish you'd never been born."

He held the other's gaze for a long time.

But this was one staring contest Sobek lost.

He blinked first.. Looking back down at the ground, the other sighed. "You do surprise me, Jack."

"I'm full of `em," he replied harshly. "Don't forget it.". He waited another moment, making sure his point had been made. Then, shifting his weight carefully, he moved off the other, then hauled them both to their feet. "And now," he continued, never relinquishing his grasp, "we are going to go through this maze, and make everything all better. Got it?!"

Amazingly enough, the other nodded passively. "As you wish."

Okay..._that_ was...different....

He even responded to the colonel's push by docily beginning to move forward.

And, as O'Neill sheathed his knife and followed, he wondered just what his prisoner was up to.

But all he knew then was that it couldn't possibly be good.

The rest...he'd find out sooner or later.

Probably sooner.

But if it meant getting Daniel back that much faster...he'd take what he was given.

No matter what it was.

*

Darkness...

...dark tunnels...vague motion...cold rage all around...

It waited...was waiting...waiting for...something....

Behind, footsteps...strong, sure, quiet...Jack...

It hated...wanted him gone...wanted to take him...wanted the blood...pain...God, how it enjoyed the pain...

...it waited...

...sharp ice-steel stabbing into him...twisting...flowing...trying to...

...contact.

...pull away away _away_...

...it was waiting...

Waiting to hurt...destroy...everything...

...but not first.

Not before...

...no...

...spreading sickening cold...inside...the deepest places...trying to take him...take all of him...take all control...

...take it all...

...and use him to...no...no...

*"Yes..."*

...it was there...

...he was losing...

...dying...

...not now...not yet...have to stop...have to..._have to_...

...please...

...it penetrated again...

And he screamed a soundless scream.

*

The sound was music to Sobek's ears.

Now that the host was all but cowed, he could turn his full attention to the problem at hand.

Which was, namely, survival.

It remained inconceivable to him how O'Neill had done this-- no mere Human could accomplish such a feat. Clearly, there was some other involved-- another Goa'uld, perhaps. Possibly one of the Asgard-- those damnable creatures were always involving themselves in matters they shouldn't.

Still, in truth, it did not matter.

For now, in the tunnels...they were alone.

Himself, O'Neill, and a host that the dear colonel would not _dare_ kill.

Let him threaten. Let him boast. Let him rant, rave, and brandish his blade all he wished. 

He would not harm this host. 

He would rather die than do so.

Which fit into the plan nicely.

But not yet.

Time must be bided. He would avenge the insult soon enough.

For now, he would have to content himself with seizing the opportunities his enemy's weakness presented.

The host had been correct in many of his assessments-- his colleague wore armour thicker than most of his kind...but the fatal void lay right over the heart.

Most convenient.

"Where are we going, Jack?" he asked, adopting the mild, innocent tone that he knew so unnerved the other. 

"You'll see."

The hard edge had returned. 

Good.

A challenge was always so...stimulating.

Especially now.

A victory was hardly worthwhile unless it involved some effort. Not a popular sentiment among his people, but still a good one.

It made it all that much more satisfying in the end, when the blood flowed hot over his hands...

How he enjoyed the end.

When everything was again made right, all the natural balances restored...the feeling that he had again made things safe for himself and his loyal servants...it was wonderful. The joy he found in that was why he'd chosen the persona of Sobek all those years ago.

And he would feel that joy again. Very soon.

But for now...there were other kinds of revenge.

And they could be just as devastating.

"Tell me, Jack," he began again, preparing to launch still another strike. "What's the Hammer like?"

In truth, he knew-- the host's mind had flooded with images of its last use years ago. 

But, what O'Neill did _not_ know...could most effectively be used against him.

"Will I feel it?" he persisted, glancing back to watch the expressions play across the colonel's face. 

The other's features could've been carved from stone. 

But his eyes told another tale.

One that said he remembered.

The host's mind had dutifully shown him the end of the last Goa'uld trapped here.

It had been...unpleasant.

Which is why it would _not_ happen to him.

Not without inflicting as much damage as possible.

If his death was to be agonising, let O'Neill's life be just as painful.

It was a mild revenge, but...it would still add to the lesson.

"It's going to hurt me," he stated, watching carefully as the play of emotion moved across the colonel's expression. "Isn't it, Jack."

A flicker of doubt flashed through the other's dark eyes, chased away by the returning cold control.

But for how long would it be absent?

Not long.

"If it causes me pain," he reminded the other, "your friend will suffer with me."

Which was no more than the host deserved, truth be told. 

But, to O'Neill, it was clearly a troubling notion.

What a shame.

Stopping his progress, he turned and faced the Human, looking him straight in the eyes.

"And I _will_ make certain he feels every last moment of the agony full force."

And deep within the dark depths of the colonel's eyes, something flinched.

Perfect.

He took a step closer, and quieted his voice. "You know I can do it, Jack," he said, savouring every nuance of the other's reaction. "You know I will."

Another pace toward the Human...another tiny crack in the mask of control.... 

"Do you really think this child could withstand that?"

For a moment, the other's eyes were troubled.

Then a fiery hatred erupted from within, blazing bright. "Yes," O'Neill answered, with absolute assurance.

Or so it seemed.

But there _had_ been doubt.

And no flame, no matter how strong, could destroy that.

Again matching gazes with the Human, he advanced yet one more step.

"Will you stake his life on that, Jack?"

The colonel met his stare with angry, steel-filled eyes. 

"I all ready have."

And he dared to reach out and shove Sobek forward.

Of all the impudent--!

He was forced to cut his thought off as his legs betrayed him, stumbling over the uneven flooring, his bound arms offering no assistance. Eventually he had to catch himself against a wall.

Oh yes...these manacles would need to be removed _soon_...

Just before he dealt with _dear_ Jack...

The Human was merely watching him now with hooded eyes, not approaching, not retreating...not even appearing to breathe.

Would that he truly weren't.

Well, that could certainly be arranged. 

In fact...it very likely _would_ be.

It might have been interesting, he supposed, to attempt to avenge the insults visited upon him by the Human, with teaching him the true purpose of his race. However, according to the host, it had all ready been tried.

Clearly, the attempt had failed.

And, near the Hammer, so much as an instant without control of the host could be deadly.

Ah well.

A long, hard death would suffice for the colonel, he supposed.

And the image he would take with him, of his dear friend driving the knife into him...that would more than balance Justice's scales.

Of course, that still left the problem of escaping the tunnels...but, he would find a way. 

All things were possible for a god.

Even one trapped with so audacious a slave.

"Get up."

A slave who dared give orders to the divine.

And, one who would likely come over and drag him to his death, without so much as a shred of dignity, if he did not comply.

A catch-22, as they said on Earth.

It was, however, taken out of his hands when the colonel grasped him roughly by the arm. "I said," he repeated harshly, pulling the Goa'uld to his feet, "_get up_."

Then, with another strong push, he was sent awkwardly into the next chamber.

And, as he regained his balance...he saw that it was also the _last_ chamber.

Before him stood a door in the shape of a Hammer.

Behind him stood a colonel, blocking the way to the door.

Well.

That certainly made things simpler, didn't it?

He waited until he could feel O'Neill standing just behind.

"It's time," the colonel whispered, practically in his ear. "Time for you to die like a good little Goa'uld."

Not exactly.

And, spinning on his heel, he turned and faced the Human.

"You know," he said mildly, "I'm really not ready to die."

And, in a single, violent motion, he broke the chains binding his wrists.

Then he attacked.

O'Neill reciprocated.

And the battle was joined.

But only briefly.

He was soon on his back, staring up at the colonel, who was pinning him to the ground.

Right according to plan.

"You can't get out of here," the other told him, apparently not realizing that he was playing right into the Goa'uld's hands. "Only Daniel can."

They both knew it for the truth.

But that didn't matter.

"Why would he want to?" he shot back, carefully tensing his legs to make certain they'd do as he asked. "He'd have to be with _you_ then."

The colonel's eyes betrayed surprise at the statement.

Perfect.

Not long now...not much longer, before he could teach this arrogant, impious, inferior being what it meant to earn the wrath of a god...

"I've seen it in his memories, Jack," he said, allowing some of his confined rage to leak into his voice. "I've seen the dangers you've led him into-- you've all ready gotten him killed several times!"

The Human blinked, clearly having been unprepared for the onslaught-- one that he could not deny.

Inasmuch as he could, Sobek lifted his head and glared. "It's no wonder that he hates you."

It was an untruth.

But it was effective.

For the briefest of moments...O'Neill's attention waned.

It was enough.

Lifting his legs just off the ground, in a smooth motion he swept them both directly into Jack's knee.

With a bitten-off cry of pain, the colonel's stance became unbalanced.

And then it was all a moot point.

Using his superior strength, he'd reversed their positions, holding O'Neill to the floor. 

With two alterations, of course.

First of all, Sobek now straddled the colonel at the hips, his knees pressing the other's wrists into the floor to prevent his own maneuver or any other from being used against him.

Thus...the Human was now completely at the mercy of the Goa'uld.

As it should be.

But he knew, with all the knowledge that his host had brought him, that this particular Human would not be felled by mere hand-to-hand.

In fact, the colonel still glared at him from below as he struggled, eyes afire with rage and pain and perhaps some small bit of fear.

Clearly, still potentially dangerous.

But that could be dealt with.

"He hates you," he repeated through clenched teeth, bending down closer, pressing down on the colonel's shoulders for maximum effect. 

"He hates you for abandoning him to me."

And he struck the helpless Human across the face.

Blood flowed-- only the beginning of the price he would extract.

But beneath him, the Human's struggling increased in denial...yet, his face betrayed the pain and impotent rage at his own helplessness...

Yes...soon, _dear_ Jack would pay in full.... 

And, still better, inside him, he could dimly feel the host's weak cries.

Yet the host could do nothing.

However, he would take no chances that the colonel could.

Which was why he'd made the second alteration.

He now held O'Neill's knife.

It was mesmerizing, he saw, gleaming softly in the dimness...throwing off tiny, beautiful shimmers of reflected light...such a calming, glorious effect...

It was almost...divine.

How utterly appropriate.

It would do nicely.

But where to use it...

Absently, he began gently tracing the lines of O'Neill's face with the edge of the blade, examining each potential site...the neck was so common...the forehead too hard to penetrate...perhaps the temple, then...

So many ways...

So many different ways for a knife to cut. 

Each more deeply than the last...until, finally...the blood flowed free, and the debt was paid in full.

What a shame that the colonel would not survive it.

He might actually have learned something.

"You'll never get out of here."

Then again...perhaps not.

"Neither will you," he told the Human. "At worst, it's a draw."

And, allowing a smile to curve his lips, he leaned down ever closer to whisper.

"I like those odds."

Then he allowed his eyes to light.

The sheer repulsion the simple act provoked was...amazing... 

And as O'Neill's struggles increased, he saw that some slight fear...had grown.

Yet it was still so simple to restrain him...

...so satisfying...

Oh, yes...the insult would be _more_ than avenged...

Such a shame he must eventually succumb to his fate.

Such a shame he _dared_ incur the wrath of Sobek.

But, at least the Goa'uld would be consoled by seeing whatever terror there would be in those dark eyes as he struck.

Slowly, he reached out, and grasped the nape of the colonel's neck, pulling him just a bit off the ground. 

Then he raised the knife.

O'Neill glared up at him, eyes full of hatred and anger and fury and fear...an incredible promethean storm raging in all directions....

He drank it all in, savouring the sweet nectar of vengeance for a long, wonderful moment.

*Ah well,* he thought, with some slight regret. *All good things...*

The moment ended.

And the knife came down....

*

...it was going to kill him...

...all around...all around the cold and the evil and the dark...no...

...he couldn't fight it...couldn't get it out...and now it was...

God, it was trying to kill Jack...

*(...then he raised the knife....)*

...no...

...had to...had to do something...

...sick, twisted pleasure...ice all through him...a nightmare...Hell worse than any other...

...had to do _something_...

*"Ah well."*

...no...

*"All good things..."*

No..._no_...NO!

*"Yes!"*

*(...and the knife came down...)*

_NO_!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

*

And the knife stopped.

*What the--?*

Then the answer hit. 

As obvious as the fact that Sobek couldn't get his arm to move.

As clear as the shocked confusion on the Goa'uld's face as he turned to stare at the limb.

As blatant as the fact that, for at least a moment, dear ol' Croc-boy was severely distracted.

*Way to go, Daniel!* 

And he struck.

His reflexes supercharged by the heat of adrenaline and resurgent hope, he lifted his legs and caught the Goa'uld between them before the little bastard could so much as blink. 

A quick jerk, and Croc-boy was off.

In a smooth motion he'd rolled, trapping Sobek's knife arm beneath his own, and grasping the other's shoulder firmly. A few whacks against the ground, and the knife was safely out of the wrong hands.

Back to where they'd started.

How cyclic.

"You will die for this, Jack!"

Not likely.

It was only three steps to the Hammer.

And then...

And then.

But there was no other choice.

His heart heavy and sinking fast, he rose, pulling the Goa'uld with him.

One step.

"I will destroy you for this, Jack!"

He wasn't looking up to it.

Two steps.

"I would be invaluable to you!"

That's what they all said.

Three.

"I'll take him with me!"

*God, no....*

"Not a chance," he challenged, standing at the threshold of the Hammer. 

*Daniel, forgive me.*

"After you," he said, feeling his throat constricting.

And then he pushed them both a step forward.

The Hammer glowed bright, fiery red.

Then the energy enveloped Sobek.

And then he screamed.

And screamed.

And screamed...

...over and over and over...

And it was all the colonel could do not to double over in pain.

*I'm sorry...*

But there was no other way...

So O'Neill did the only thing he could.

He didn't let go.

His hands remained clamped on the writhing man's shoulders, as a thousand tiny almost-pains ran through them...

And Daniel screamed and screamed...

...a gutwrenching cry of agony...that went on and on and on...

...each one a twisting knife in O'Neill's heart...

Until, a thousand eternities later...it stopped.

And Daniel went limp.

"Daniel?!"

The archaeologist didn't so much as twitch.

He just slipped to the ground, taking the colonel with him.

Unmoving.

Barely breathing.

With only a weak, faltering pulse.

*Oh, God...*

...his skin was cold as...

No.

Thor would _not_ kill a Human for just being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Daniel would be fine.

He'd be _fine_.

Because it couldn't end this way...

It _couldn't_.

Not for him. 

Not again....

God, please not again.

Daniel would be fine.

He'd be _fine_! 

He just...had to keep telling himself that.

Eventually...he might believe it.

Eventually.

But for now...Daniel was in trouble.

The younger man's body was all ready starting to tremble uncontrollably... absently, he identified it as shock...poor man's nerves had been shorted out...

There had to be something...

He couldn't just sit there and..._watch_...

And so, reaching out more by instinct than anything else, he gathered the younger man into his arms, and held on tight. 

Because quite frankly he didn't know what the hell else there was that he could do.

*

He was alone.

Alone...and without feeling.

But the Goa'uld was gone...

That last surge of pain had been its dying...and he'd thought his death, too.

All the blackness...the sensory-deprived emptiness...it'd seemed so...final...like a black hole swallowing him...

Then nothing.

And now...something.

Rocking.

A vague sense of rhythmic motion...back and forth...like being on a ship. But...there hadn't been any oceans or lakes or anything near the Hall of Mjollnir, so...where was he?

He couldn't feel any part of his body-- the Hammer must've shorted out his nervous system. But his other senses seemed to be semi-functional...

The air he took in smelled of ozone...underlain by the sharp tangs of blood and sweat, and...something...else. Sweeter...clean, like...aftershave?

That didn't make much sense...especially against the sounds of dripping water, his own heartbeat and the odd movement of wind...little gasps of it, it sounded like...he didn't remember those from last time...in fact, if he didn't know better, he'd say the caves were breathing...

Unless...

With a moment of effort, he managed to get his burning eyes open.

They showed him a field of dark green...with a blur of light tan before him that slowly resolved itself into a frame of light brown hair with a hint of silver around a hardened, careworn face...whose kind, dark eyes were now tightly closed...

"Jack?"

He wasn't even sure if the word was intelligible. 

He wasn't even sure if it mattered, since the sound caused the colonel's eyes to fly open. "Daniel?" he asked, adjusting his arms to prop the archaeologist up higher. 

"Yeah," he managed, feeling his throat was as dry as Abydos. "It's me."

He didn't have to explain further.

A rare, genuine smile graced Jack's face at the words. "Good to hear," he said softly. "I knew you could beat it."

Weakly, the younger man felt his own lips curve slightly. That made one of them, then. 

"Now," the colonel went on, his expression turning more typically serious. "Don't you _ever_ do this to me again."

The sheer vehement irony of the statement was enough to make the archaeologist chuckle weakly. "I'll try."

He'd do more than that, of course.

If he _never_ had a Goa'uld within twenty miles of him again, it'd be too soon.

He all ready knew Jack felt the same way.

Speaking of which...the colonel was still breathing oddly...like he was having trouble catching his breath. 

Like maybe he'd...broken a rib or...worse...

It had fought with him...thrown him to the floor...tried to kill him...

*...using _me_...*

And, instead of going for help, Jack had stayed, because of him...

No. 

No, he was just...overreacting...had to be.

He _had_ to be.

"Jack," he asked slowly, silently praying to anyone who'd listen that he hadn't let anything happen. "Are you okay?"

The other blinked, seemingly surprised by the question. "I'm fine," he replied, and his voice was...thickened or choked with...something...

"I'm just glad to see you."

The uncharacteristic sentiment was made even more heartwarming by the fact that Jack looked away, probably in embarrassment.

But it was enough.

It told him that, somehow, some way...everything would be okay.

Jack was here. 

He knew that Sam and Teal'c would soon be here.

And soon he'd be going home.

It was over.

It was _finally_ over.

Thank God it was finally over...

And that now, after what seemed like ages...he could finally rest.

**The End**

  


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> Author's Notes: A few words on the mythology. The Ancient Egyptian god Sobek was an ally of Ra, but is more often considered the son of Nit (Graeco-Roman Neith) than of Seth, though both are not without record. However, since we have met Seth but not Nit, I decided to merely mention Seth.  
> The phrase "I know you. [Because] I know your name." is from The Book of the Dead.  
> The phrase "archei oun" does in fact mean "And so it begins", but it can also mean "And so he/she begins", "And so he/she/it/rules". In addition, the noun "arche" (all of this is transliterated from the Ancient Greek) can mean "beginning", "rule", and "empire", and the word "archaeology" is derived from it. This story is thus gratefully dedicated to Carolyn Higbie, Ph.D of the State University of New York at Buffalo Classics department, for proving this perfect pun.  
> 

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> © March, 2003 The characters mentioned in this story are the property of Showtime and Gekko Film Corp.  
> The Stargate, SG-I, the Goa'uld and all other characters  
> who have appeared in the series STARGATE SG-1 together with the names,   
> titles and backstory are the sole copyright property of MGM-UA Worldwide Television, Gekko Film Corp, Glassner/Wright Double Secret Productions and Stargate SG-I Prod. Ltd. Partnership. This fanfic is not intended as an infringement upon those rights and solely meant for entertainment. All other characters, the story idea and the story itself are the sole property of the author.   
> 

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